


Sacrifice

by Syrenslure



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrenslure/pseuds/Syrenslure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thinks about Hermione and the things they are both willing to sacrifice to defeat Voldemort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  bdsm, graphic sex, violence  
> Darkfic (Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, hints of HP/GW, HG/RW)
> 
> Thank you to opium_lips who beta read this for me and helped me smooth out the rough patches.

She didn't love him. Harry had made sure of that, driving the point home with callous precision before he had agreed to this madness. Though, the fact that she was the one to come to him with this ritual was a good indication that she understood the consequences. Hermione wasn't one to do something halfway.

It wasn't that he didn't care for her. The bond of their friendship was the catalyst for this ritual that bordered on dark magic. They had to care - but not too much. They had to love each other just enough to be aware of what they were doing: to consent to the sacrifice, to care enough to make it hurt.

The fact that they were actually in love - just not with each other - was like a bonus. Ron and Ginny would be hurt, too, and they also had consented, after a fashion. Their loss wasn't as important, as necessary. It was just one more layer, one more sacrifice they were making.

The ritual didn't require them to be virgins. They could have consummated their true relationships and held onto those memories as they traveled through the darkness. They had thought about it, discussed it even - though, not with Ron and Ginny (it was best not to present them with options they wouldn't honor). The magic didn't even require sex (his mother had used her death to a similar effect), but they were young and it was the easiest (and hardest) option available to them.

He was going to touch Hermione intimately. He would press his lips to hers and kiss her. He would strip her naked and caress her breasts, her belly, her body. He was going to push his fingers inside her - something he hadn't even done with Ginny - and then he was going to fuck her. He was going to push his cock into her body and tear through her maidenhead, joining with her in a way that neither of them had ever experienced. He was going to be selfish, and he was going to hurt her, and he was going to enjoy it more that he could imagine yet, because he was aware enough, and honest enough to know that it would feel so good inside of her, so tight and wet, and grasping all around him.

That wasn't the worst of it, the end of what twisted around inside him with dark whispers. Every pain that he inflicted on her body and her heart, would bring her ecstasy as well. He would give her as much pleasure as pain, and take the same in return. It would feel so good that it would hurt just a little bit more.

The guilt of that pleasure would always be there between them when they looked at each other. When their eyes would meet across the room, even as Ron had his arms around her and he held Ginny close, there would always be the little shiver of pain and guilt and remembered pleasure, for being so good at being so bad. It was already happening between them, and they hadn't even done it, yet. All he had now were the pictures in his head, the fantasies that he had formed while reading the books that Hermione had given him - illustrated guides to sex, and sex magic, and erotica - as he imagined what he was going to do to her and how she would feel beneath him, and over him and all-around. They were already tainted by the knowledge of what was to come.

It wouldn't be long now. They had chosen the Eve of Lughsanadh, an hour past sunset on his birthday, a day that would always be remembered, would never fade from their memory with each year that passed. It was the day he would come of age, becoming a man in his own right, and lose some of the protections that family could bestow on a child. It suited their purposes beautifully, the swapping of one blood sacrifice for another.

She didn't love him, and he'd never love her, but if sex could ever be called making love, there was no better description for their sacrifice.

   
 

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://panthermoon.com/dreaming/viewstory.php?sid=39>  



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